The little grey cat sat by the door of the veterinary clinic, crying softly, a tiny kitten curled at her feet.
A woman strolled calmly down the street, a small dog trotting beside her on a lead. It was a crisp autumn daythe air rang clear, and golden and crimson leaves swirled as if dancing to an invisible orchestra. The mood was light, almost sparkling. Until suddenly
Her attention was snatched by something impossible to ignore. There, at the clinics entrance, sat the grey cat, mewling pitifully, a fragile kitten beside her. Every so often, she darted toward passersby, as if pleading for help. She yowled, begged, demandedyet people only quickened their steps.
Everyone hurried about their business, blindor pretending to beto the tiny, barely breathing creature on the pavement. How often it was easier to walk past a strangers suffering. But the woman stopped.
She knelt, carefully lifting the kitten. Its ribs jutted sharply beneath her fingers, its breaths shallow. One thought flashed through her mind: *What do I do? Where do I go?* Then the mother cat stepped closer, locking eyes with her, meowing softly but insistently. *Help save her*
A note hung on the door:
*”Closed for the day. No appointments.”*
Her stomach dropped. A taxi? Money? Where else could she go? But instinct took over. She pushed against the doorand miraculously, it swung open.
At the far end of the corridor stood a tall, silver-haired man in a faded white coat.
*”Please!”* she called. *”I have no money, but Ill pay you back. Shell die if”* She thrust the frail body toward him.
The vet took the kitten gently, hurrying into the operating room. The woman and the cat waited in the hallway, trembling. Minutes later, she noticed strange lumps beneath the mans coat, between his shoulder blades. *Poor man, a hunchback?*
*”Do you think so?”* The vet turned suddenly, studying her before returning to the kitten.
Hours passed. The kittens breathing steadied.
*”Shell live,”* the vet said. *”But she needs caremedicine, warmth. She cant go back out there”* His gaze shifted pointedly to the woman. The mother cats stare was just as piercing.
*”Of course Ill take them!”* she protested. *”Both of them.”* She nodded at the calm little dog beside her. *”Moses and I will make room.”*
The vet smiled. *”Then Ill give you all you need. No charge. Consider it already paid.”*
The woman blinked at the word *”Miss”*she was long past the age for such titles. But there was no time to dwell. She took the medicine, the kitten, and set off home, flanked by her loyal dog and the watchful cat.
A month later, she mustered the courage to call the clinic.
*”Hello, Dr. Whitmore speaking,”* answered a cheerful voice.
She recounted the kittens rescue, thanking him. But the vet sounded baffled. After searching records, he said, *”Im sorry, but I dont remember you. The 28th was my day offI was out of town with family. You must be mistaken, but it doesnt matter. The kitten survived. Thats what counts.”*
She sank into a chair, stunned. Just then, the now-healthy kittennow the familys darlingleapt into her lap. Nearby, the mother cat watched intently.
Then *He* appeared. The old coat no longer hid the white wings beneath. The Angel smiled.
*”You saved her yourself. I only helped a little.”*
The cat looked at the Angel and began to purr.
*”I dont usually interfere,”* the Angel muttered, as if apologising. *”But you cats so stubborn. Fine. One last rule broken.”*
He winked at the catthen dissolved into the air. At that moment, the doorbell rang.
A clumsy man stood there in worn overalls, a toolbox in hand. *”You called? Leaky tap?”*
*”No, but since youre here,”* she smiled, *”the bathroom could use fixing. Ill pay.”*
*”Always mixing up my jobs”* he grumbled, stepping inside. Kneeling, he unpacked his tools.
Wordlessly, she fetched a thick cushion and slid it beneath his knees.
*”Ta,”* he said quietly, then suddenly grinned. His tired, stubbled face transformedsomething heartbreakingly vulnerable flickered in his eyes. Her chest ached. She pitied him, this lost, lonely man.
*”Would you like some soup? Theres shepherds pie too,”* she heard herself say.
*”Shepherds pie”* He exhaled. *”God, its been years”* He looked up at her, sheepish but hopeful.
*”Right then, wait there!”* Flushing, she rushed to the kitchen, giddy as if performing some grand act.
The repairman tried to focus, but the aromas of roasting meat and fresh broth lured his attention. To pass the time, he flicked on his old radioVivaldis *Four Seasons* filled the room.
The woman froze in the doorway.
*”This cant be”* she whispered.
Yet it was. And now, it was happening.
A month later, a couple strolled through the city squarethe woman and the former repairman, now in a smart new suit. His eyes shone with peace, the kind every soul craves.
Nearby, the Angel sat with the mother cat, grumbling, *”You cats are impossible. Nothings ever enough. What more do you want?”*
The cat paced, fixing him with a demanding stare.
*”Dont even start!”* The Angel huffed. *”Ive broken every rule. No more.”*
He paused, meeting the cats gaze, then sighed.
*”Fine. Have it your way. God bless.”*
By a lottery kiosk, a beggar sata ragged figure lost in thought. But as the couple approached, he stirred.
*”Spare a quid for a hungry man?”* He held out a trembling hand.
The man reached for his wallet, but the woman stopped him. She pressed a note into the beggars palm.
*”Miss,”* he said suddenly. *”I cant take it for nothing. Swap you?”* He offered a lottery ticket.
She startled. His voice was oddly familiar. And beneath his coat, two small lumps hinted at wings. Nosurely not.
*”The fifteenth,”* he pressed, gripping her hand. *”Check it then. Or Ill be cross.”*
*”Alright,”* she laughed, tucking the ticket away.
The fifteenth came. She raced through the square, stopping strangers, desperate. *”Have you seen him?”* Tears welled. Her husband held her close. *”Well find him. Well make him take help.”*
They wandered off, hand in hand.
Meanwhile, the Angel sat in his usual café, wings hidden under an old jacket. A black cat lounged opposite, listening.
The Angel sipped his tea. *”You know, Ive always loved Bachs fourth sonata. Played by Vikingur Ólafssonlike raindrops ringing on glass”*
As if summoned, he waved a hand. A tree shimmered into view beside them, drenched in summer rain. Crystal droplets fell, chiming against leaves before cascading like liquid rainbows.
The cat watched, entranced.
At home, the mother cat purred, grooming her now-grown kitten. Moses drowsed nearby. From somewhere deep, music swelledevery purr harmonising with the chime of phantom raindrops, their melody spinning on.
